


a champion corrupted

by momokos



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:40:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23400109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momokos/pseuds/momokos
Summary: a foreign land, a failed usurper, a horrid fate
Kudos: 1





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> i have.... a lot of this written in notebooks over the years and i figured i should probably type it all up to just have it. inspired by a horrid game i played years back so just gonna slowly add chapters here when i can. 
> 
> warning for a lot of things in future chapters- noncon, monster fucking, non consensual body/sex modifcation, gender shit, pregnancy, crap rambly writing.

The entrance of the cave gapes open, sharp stalactites hanging menacingly overhead giving the entrance the appearance of a mouth, a monster lying in wait to snatch its prey into its maw. 

The Head Knight, Serill, stops and nods his head, gesturing for the usurper to proceed alone. The guard at his back pushes him forward. The shining armour clad man gives him a sad, tight lipped smile. He had trained under him and it was clear that the elder was sad to see this happen to the young man. 

“Go on, Champion. Don’t make this harder than it need be.” The elder man sadly spits, allowing himself to refer to the younger by his. Many in the kingdom were aware of the Champion of the Cradition Lower Circles, chosen to be trained as a Knight and leave behind his poor beginnings purely due to his impressive display at an Annual Tournament, which he had barely scraped together the entry fee to partake. His shadowy features stood out when surrounded by the fair and handsome features that made up the upper circles and made it impossible for him to escape the title that followed him. Serrill had always found it amusing to tease him with it, even in their last moments together.

He steps inside on his lonesome, the cave is unusually damp and warm, especially with the coldness of the weather storming outside. It takes him a moment to adjust to the change, as it let his body catch up with how bitter the cold outside had been. At the end of the cave, glows a swirling pink and purple portal, which flares with a demonic light. Cringing, he continues onward- keenly aware of the way his body seemed to be anticipating coming into contact with the tainted magical construct. He closed his dark eyes as he arrived before it, and with a heavy resigned breath, he leapt forward, letting the vertigo overwhelm him. 

A crown welded piece by piece with each blade that brought the last monarch's life to an end being added- making it all the more extravagant as the years went on. Slit the crowns neck, and get to rule over the rest. Fail, and be cast out. Only rumours were all that was known about those who met that fate. Whispers of magic and pain. The only way to find out the truth- was to meet the same fate as those not good enough to claim.

He came so close to getting to add his own blade to that crown. It was all fair game in regards to who challenged the crown, and as knight of the crown’s own personal guard- he had the perfect chance. It was all laid out before him. He spent his every day trailing behind the grizzled man, he’d been trained to fight and had even intercepted previous attempts on the man’s life. 

It would have been all too simple- should he had not been stupid enough to not realise the reigning king fought hard and viciously to rule, and he wouldn’t give it up that easily.


	2. one: home warming

He awoke with a splitting headache and a strange warmness that seemed to emanate from his very core. He raised his hand to his forehead, feeling the telltale wetness of a cut from his forehead- blood dripped down his face and his vision darkened momentarily, but not from a drop spilling into his eye. His training kicked in as he rolled to the side across the bare ground and leapt to his boot clad feet, his armour clanging against the stone ground.

A surprised looking…. creature of some kind stood before him. It was as bare as the day it was born (or hatched perhaps? He was unsure exactly) and it bared it’s teeth, gaping maw hissing viciously. 

He fumbled, trying to get a grip on his sword and put some distance between the two. He held the blade out. Man and creature separated by the length of the fine sword. They circled each other as his heart hammered in his chest, this thing was unlike anything he had ever seen before- with it’s horned head and emancipated body.

The creature gave another snarl, body seemingly contracting into itself before it leapt out towards him. He reacted quickly, swinging the sword down before it could lay it’s claws on him. The blade sliced cleanly through it’s abdomen and it let out a blood curdling screech, slowly tapering off as life trickled out of it. His sabaton clad foot gave it a sharp kick, making sure that the thing was done for. No reaction. 

He was finally able to take his surroundings in with no immediate danger present. A thick forest seemed to stretch on all around him. He had awoke in a small clearing, with evidence present that someone had been there before- but not for a very long time. A small tent had served as a meal for moths, with its various holes rendering it near useless should it rain. A trunk, covered in ruins and designs unlike any he had ever seen before and was empty, filled with nothing but dust. He brushed a spider sporting far too many legs away from the hard wood so he could sit down on it. 

He could only assume that one of the previous failed usurper’s had tried to make camp here- and if it was currently empty then it’s previous owner had either died, or found somewhere else to squat. So here he was left with another man’s leftovers, the armour on his back and his sword the only possessions to his name. 

It was nearing nightfall, the sky darkening and yet it still felt absurdly warm, he could feel the under armour cloth sticking uncomfortably close to his skin and sweat trickle down the back of his neck. Not even the warmest Cradition summer days would get this humid and as time passed, he only grew sweatier and more peeved. But who knows if anything else would jump out at him while he sat there, trying to decide his next move, so he couldn’t discard his armour.

That was a death wish when he didn’t know what he was up against.

He wasn’t told of what he was to do here- what the purpose of pushing him and many others before through a sea of pinks and purples, and this heat was really getting to him so he resorted to taking off his gauntlets, discarding them to the grassy ground and ran his hands through his face as his shoulders slumped. 

What was he going to do?


End file.
